


En Vino

by spunker13



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Is Not Crowley (Supernatural), First Time, I am so bad with tags, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), aziraphale is kinda experienced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 18:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spunker13/pseuds/spunker13
Summary: “… my infatuation is translatin’ to another form of what you call it?”-See You Again by Tyler, The CreatorCrowley had known that he had feelings for Aziraphale since the very first time they met, but when he finally figured out a way to verbalize his emotions and wow the angel, just like Armageddon, it didn’t go as thought.





	En Vino

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll!!! This is my first Good Omens fic! It's been awhile since I've written something, but seeing David Tennant and Michael Sheen give life and love to these two characters has inspired me some.
> 
> Thanks to my bby for playing editor :)))
> 
> I hope ya'll like it!
> 
> Kudos and positive comments are always welcomed! <3

It was that First Day.

It was a nice day too.

Ever since that fateful moment, Crowley had been madly in love with his angel.

Of course, he figured it was only due to being near another celestial body in the early stages of Earth and God’s Creation, but as the centuries went by, despite trying to shake off this feeling, Crowley found himself wanting to be surrounded by his angelic presence more often. What had originally started as chance meetings in markets had turned into lunch dates and Châteauneuf-du-Pape together. Crowley would then return to his empty flat, devoid of the warmth from his best friend, and tend to his plants. His energy would be so drained after spending the day with his angel that he couldn’t possibly tempt a single human soul. The disappointment in himself for going another moment without revealing his true feelings would manifest as anger.

Unfortunate for his plants really.

Crowley was draped over his chair, head lolling over the armrest contemplating yet another way to show his angelic bookshop owner that he was head over heels for him. He considered taking him to the Ritz, watching his tongue dart out over his lips as he ate dessert. Imagining the sweet cream on his tongue as he sent the china crashing to the floor in an attempt to get a taste of his own. Ever the sweet one, his angel…

“Can demons go through an existential crisis?”

Crowley blinked his eyes open. Even upside down, Aziraphale was beautiful.

“I phoned.” Crowley glared accusingly at his phone for not being heard.

“I didn’t hear it.” Aziraphale stood there with a firm eye on the demon, hands clasped together in front of him.

“You’ve been,” he glanced away for a second, “distracted as of late. Is everything alright?”

Of course not! Crowley wanted to yell out. A soldier of Hell is in love with an angel. How in the bloody Heaven could I be okay?

“Just going over the details of our Not Armageddon.”

Aziraphale approached Crowley’s chair, wrapping his fingers around the gold. Crowley had a sudden thought: Azirphale’s neck and hands dripping in gold. The finest jewelry from their favorite places adorning his beautiful skin. He certainly deserved it. He could almost hear the bracelets tinkling as Aziraphale gazed upon him, trailing soft fingertips along his neck to come to a stop at his prominent chin, lifting ever so slightly and leaning in…

“Crowley.” Crowley hummed a response. “If you’re amenable, what would you say to joining me later at the bookshop for a glass or two of Château Lafite? Get you out of your head a moment.”

Crowley finally swung his legs around and sat appropriately. “I would say that you’re tempting me. Maybe I should find a new job.” Aziraphale’s mouth quirked up.

“Nothing could be as tempting as you, my dear.” Crowley’s addled thoughts came to an abrupt stop as Aziraphale’s words sank in. Crowley took this as an opportunity to finally say something, to reveal to his angel that he wanted to spend the next six thousand years by his side, Heaven and Hell willing. He wanted to tell him about all the dream kisses they shared and how he wanted to run his hands over his wings, reminding him that he is God’s greatest Creation.

He would Fall a million times over, feel the searing pain on his skin…

All for him.

But his words were a little blurry and jumbled up before they reached his lips.

“Consider me there,” was all he could muster.

Crowley never really considered putting in any conscious effort into his wardrobe. He simply wore what he liked. But he wanted to make this night memorable. Tonight was the night he would let the angel know his deepest feelings. He wanted Aziraphale to remember this moment because of Crowley, what he wore, how he smelled and looked, not because of the crepes he ate or the drinks they shared; so before their evening together, Crowley went out to find some inspiration for something he could miracle up. He could buy an outfit, but he hadn’t paid for a single thing since the late 60s.

He had explained his intentions to the young man at the tailor and was shown several options, all in black, but the one he had currently on was the winner. He hoped that Aziraphale would like it. He had to miracle up some serious cash for it.

Crowley had soaked and steamed in his tub, primped his hair to its usual tousled look, and put on his suit. Just as he was about to leave, he thought better about the tie and left it draped over his chair, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.

He sped toward the bookshop, playing chicken with pedestrians along the way. He parked along the sidewalk, took one last look at himself in the rearview mirror and stepped out of the Bentley. Crowley took a steadying breath outside the front door. Aziraphale had wanted him to come over to get him out of his head, and here he was worrying about impressing someone who has seen him throughout the growth of mankind. He opened the door with a flick of his wrist, letting the bell above the door ring loudly to alert Aziraphale.

“Crowley? Come join me in the back,” the angel called. Crowley turned the lock of the door and headed for the back of the shop. Aziraphale was flitting around readjusting books that were already perfectly organized.

“I’ve got something really special for us tonight. I’ve been saving it since-”

Aziraphale snapped his mouth shut at the sight in front of him.

Crowley, sporting a bespoke burgundy suit with a black shirt underneath, was absolutely sinful. He had plans of his own with Crowley, but all of those thoughts flew out his head when he set his eyes on him. Crowley held his sunglasses in his hand, fidgeting with the leg as he allowed Aziraphale to soak in the sight of his figure.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley started, hoping and praying to anyone that he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. “I haven’t been myself lately. I suppose since our near miss with Armageddon, I have been thinking a lot, and,”

“Come sit with me,” Aziraphale interrupted. Crowley stared dumbly at him until the angel turned to retrieve two wine glasses. Crowley took a seat and held out his hand for the glass. He didn’t notice how his hand trembled until he held the glass and Aziraphale wrapped his warm fingers over his own to steady the glass as he poured.

“This is a 1941 vintage Château Lafite Rothschild. I was holding onto this bottle for a special occasion, but I thought today was as good as any other day.” Aziraphale’s gaze raked over Crowley’s body. “I suppose we both thought so.” Aziraphale poured his own glass and held it close to Crowley’s. They clinked their glasses together and sipped as Aziraphale sat across from Crowley.

“Azira-”

“I know that these past few days have been hectic, for both of us,” Aziraphale paused to take another sip. “I am concerned that your mindset is not in the right place. I am certainly concerned for your wellbeing, and if-”

“Damn it all, angel,” Crowley growled with a hard eye roll. Aziraphale leaned back in his chair, tucking his chin slightly in surprise at Crowley’s sudden ferocity.

“May I speak?” The angel nodded once. “I don’t give a damn about the war we have put off another millennia or what the Antichrist is going to do now that he’s not bringing about the end of the world. I don’t bloody care.”

“Then why have you been so distant lately?”

“It’s you, Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered, heart hammering against his chest. There was no point in waiting anymore, especially when he’s already made a spectacle of raising his voice and showing up in a tailor-made suit. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about. For the last six thousand years, all I have thought about is you. The moment you gave up your flaming sword,” he muttered to himself.

“Before you say, “Oh well, you’re a demon, there’s no possible way you can love” I need to say that I do love you. When your shop had burned down, I dreaded the thought that you were in there. My best friend was lost, and I could not imagine going through a single day without you, let alone another several millennia. I have been thinking and gathering the courage to express this to you, but I suppose I have been around humans for so long that my tongue gets tied.

The silence between them was charged. Crowley could go on and on about his love and affections for Aziraphale, but he also didn’t want to scare the angel away. Crowley was already Damned, but Aziraphale was still an angel, despite an unsuccessful attempt on his life by Archangels, and if his fondness for him caused him to Fall, Crowley didn’t think he could live with himself. He didn’t want to jeopardize his holiness because of a demon’s feelings.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale started, face careful, “This wine we are sharing tonight is from 1941, the year you saved me from discorporation. I have suspected your feelings since that night. Since the moment you handed me the books and our hands brushed, Crowley. What kind of heartless fiend would save an angel’s dusty old books?” Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled in fondness. “You’re not like other demons, Crowley, as much as you like to pretend.” Aziraphale rose from his seat to join Crowley on his. “But if it’s all the same to you, I don’t care how much of this or that you are,” he said gently, tilting his glass toward Crowley’s.

Crowley stared at his own glass in his trembling hand. All these years, hiding his admiration with sarcasm and indifference just to find out that Aziraphale had guessed correctly that night in the church. He wasn’t sure if he should feel embarrassed or relieved that he made it so obvious. Aziraphale’s hand gently reached for the edge of his jaw, urging him to glance up at him.

“We have the rest of eternity to figure this out,” he said quietly. “But I do adore you.”

Crowley smiled at him, unguarded and loving. “And here I thought temptations were my thing.” He leaned up a bit to meet Aziraphale halfway, lips brushing delicately. Tentatively. This wasn’t a dream that Crowley had conjured up while gazing at Aziraphale across a dinner table, and when their lips met firmly, his head turned hazy. Aziraphale’s lips were as soft as they looked, plush against his own as he ghosted his free hand on his neck. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Aziraphale was aware of his wine glass slipping from his hand and shattering on the hardwood floor, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He maneuvered himself onto Crowley’s lap, one knee in between his thighs. Both his hands came up to cup Crowley’s face, thumbs caressing the stubble across his jaw, and God, it was the best feeling to know just how his skin felt under his hands, so close and so warm now. Their kiss deepened when Crowley opened his mouth- an invitation for Aziraphale’s tongue. Crowley managed to clumsily place his wine glass on the side table, letting his hand fall to Aziraphale’s hip. His forked tongue flicked out and gently caressed Aziraphale’s lower lip before dipping in to meet the angel’s tongue.

Their kisses grew more heated: toothy nips and bruises sucked into delicate skin. Crowley laved at a fresh mark at the skin below Aziraphale’s ear. Aziraphale bared his neck for his demon’s teeth, relishing the sharp sting of the initial bite and the warmth of his serpent tongue. He adjusted his knee closer to brush against the tent in Crowley’s trousers, smiling to himself when he let out a moan against his skin.

“Come to bed with me,” Aziraphale murmured in Crowley’s ear. He kissed his cheek twice more before leaning back from his spot in his lap, hand out for Crowley’s.

“How could I ever say no?” He laced their fingers and followed behind him.

Aziraphale’s bedroom was cozy, dimly lit with candles. The angel sat on the bed and directed Crowley to stand between his knees.

“You are the epitome, the essence of temptation dressed like this, Crowley.” Aziraphale gripped the edges of his jacket, rubbing the material between two fingers. “I hope you intend to wear this again.”

“As many times as you want, angel.” Aziraphale abandoned the jacket to run his hands across Crowley’s stomach, unbuttoning his shirt as Crowley undid the top ones. Aziraphale gripped his belt and tugged him closer to wrap his arms around his thin frame, nuzzling into his bare stomach. Crowley carded his fingers through Aziraphale’s golden curls. Aziraphale pressed kisses into his warm skin, letting his hands come back around to work at loosening Crowley’s belt. Of course, either of them could have just miracled his trousers and pants away, but where was the sex appeal in that?

Aziraphale undid his trousers and slid them down along with his pants in one slow drag. Crowley’s cock was long and slender, curving upward toward Aziraphale’s face. The angel glanced up at him, locking eyes before leaning forward and placing a closed-mouth kiss to the crown. Crowley closed his eyes with a relieved sigh. Aziraphale teased at his cock with the tip of his tongue, listening to the quickening breaths of the man above him. The fingers on the back of his head curled and twisted in his hair. Aziraphale reached back and put pressure on Crowley’s hand, both urging him and hoping that he would know what it meant.

Crowley braced himself, adjusting his leg forward and tightening his grip in Aziraphale’s hair before pushing past his lips and into the tight, wet heat of his mouth. Aziraphale hollowed out his cheeks, tongue lying flat against the thick vein underneath his cock. Crowley sped up his hips, using Aziraphale’s hair as leverage to meet every thrust. He was chasing that tight feeling in his belly, feeling the edge of Aziraphale’s teeth against his sensitive skin as his control slipped.

“Azira,” Crowley hissed in warning. Aziraphale only hummed around Crowley’s cock, gripping his hips tightly. Crowley came hard down his throat. His vision whited behind his closed eyes. Spots danced across his vision when he finally opened them. Aziraphale let Crowley slip out of his mouth with a lewd _slurp_ and leaned back on his elbows with a satisfied smirk on his reddened lips.

“Oh, you bloody fiend,” Crowley growled, miracling away Aziraphale’s clothes with a snap of his fingers as well as his own. Where they went escaped him, but he promised himself that once he got a taste of his angel, he’d find them afterwards. The angel slid further up the bed as Crowley slithered up after him. Crowley explored Aziraphale with his mouth, placing gentle kisses all over- in the creases of his thighs, around his belly button, a graze of teeth on his nipples. When Crowley found his lips, they moved slowly, savoring the softness of each other’s mouths. Aziraphale kissed him as if he were mouthing quiet prayers.

Prayers that asked for God to protect the only thing he has ever truly loved with his entire being.

Prayers for Crowley to stop punishing himself so much for wanting to be loved.

Crowley’s hand came in between their joined bodies. His thumb stroked the head of Aziraphale’s cock, spreading precum around the glans. Crowley was hard again (thank goodness for small miracles) and slid his cock alongside Aziraphale’s, delighting in the pleasure of his fiery skin against his own. With every movement of his hips, Aziraphale’s breathing hitched against his mouth, heated breaths ghosting his face. Crowley opened his eyes a bit to see Aziraphale’s golden eyelashes flutter, his face relaxed out of its natural warm crinkle.

Aziraphale was always beautiful. Truly an angel among men.

But, in this moment, Crowley was the reason for this gorgeous expression,

He deserved to be revered, painted gold on chapel ceilings. If the humans wouldn’t grant it to him, Heaven, Crowley would. He would erect statues in his image with elegant wings spread behind him and a halo atop his head. Crowley would fashion him a crown made with blue diamonds and white gold.

Crowley would gift his angel the world.

He would gift him Alpha Centauri. Whatever he desired, Crowley would make it his.

Until that moment, what he could give him for now was this intimate moment. Six thousand years was a long time to wait for the right time, but as Aziraphale’s body tightened like a bow string andCrowley’s hand wrapped around both of their cocks, Crowley knew it was worth the wait.

Crowley lays on Aziraphale, heavy and sated. Aziraphale nuzzled the side of his face with his own.

“You’re magnificent,” Aziraphale whispered against his face. “I couldn’t imagine loving anyone as much as you.” Crowley embraced him, careful to tuck his face in the crook of his neck to keep the wetness in his eyes from being seen. When Crowley was certain his voice wouldn’t crack, he leaned away with a kiss to the corner of Aziraphale’s eye.

“How about we finish celebrating with that wine of yours?”

“Whatever you want, dear.”


End file.
